


Ready to Serve

by Inactive_Account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fingering, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inactive_Account/pseuds/Inactive_Account
Summary: Shiro is taken from the ring to serve as a pleasure slave . . .





	

_‘Don’t you dare, Sendak.’_

_Shiro dove before Matt. He raised his fists before his chest, with fingers clenched hard enough to draw crescent shaped cuts upon his skin, and he gave such a snarl that his lips pulled back into an expression like a grimace. The air on the ship was cold, enough to penetrate the skin-tight body suit. There were murmurs of surprise and horror from behind him, along with the various sounds of metal weapons being unsheathed by the guards._

_Sendak simply stood in silence and watched. The Galra raised a clawed hand, signalling to those around him, and – as the prisoners fell into an absolute silence – various weapons were lowered and Shiro was left to face his captor alone. Yellow eyes met grey. The armour shone in the low and dark light, something strange and disconcerting, and Sendak took a step towards Shiro with organic hand outstretched to him. It touched his chin. The fur tickled against grazed and bruised flesh, while the claw felt cool and hard._

_‘You dare to defy the Galra Empire?’ Sendak asked._

_There was a long silence and a cold chill. Shiro chanced a glance behind him; Matt cowered against the metal wall, with brownish-blonde hair mussed and blood dripping from his lip, and Shiro knew – from that frail body and bony frame – he would not survive one more match. Shiro reached up and placed a trembling hand upon Sendak’s, where he let his fingertips trace through thick fur. It moved like silk to the touch. The idea of feeling it across his body . . . back, chest, even cock . . . made a wave of nausea course through him._

_‘I’m offering you a trade,’ said Shiro._

_‘Indeed, your body in exchange for that one.’ Sendak tilted his head and gave a huff of breath. ‘You know what is required of a pleasure slave, yes? That one accepted in exchange for avoiding the ring. He knows the risks, but I sincerely doubt that you do.’_

_‘I don’t care about the risks. Send Matt to the labour camps.’_

_‘Your friend’s safety in exchange for your body?’_

_Matt gave a sharp gasp. The younger man tried to dive forward, only to be slammed against the wall by a Galra guard. There was a snapping noise of a skull upon the metallic wall, followed by a sliding noise as he slid to the ground and nursed his bleeding head, and Shiro – as his heart raced and his muscles felt weak – swallowed hard and locked his eyes upon the captor and master before him. He ignored Matt’s cries and desperate sobs. Shiro bit his lip until he tasted iron, as he dropped to his knee and bowed forward._

_‘I’ll let you brand me and maim me,’ said Shiro. ‘You can mark me as yours. I’m the Champion, Sendak. I’ll bring you more prestige, be able to handle any abuse you throw at me, and I’ll even provide you a challenge. You can try to tame a wild beast or adopt a kitten without any claws. It’s your choice. You know I’m the better of the two.’_

_‘You would let me scar your face? Remove your arm? Bloody your back?’ Sendak observed with narrowed eyes, as Shiro nodded his consent. ‘Hmm, it certainly is true that boy is of the more disposable kind. You are a more permanent trophy. A fine trophy, indeed.’_

_‘So we have a deal? Matt works as a labour slave, and I’ll –’_

_Sendak raised a hand to silence Shiro. It was a strange gesture; Shiro was too used to disobeying, too used to fighting for survival, and it took every ounce of self-control not to lash out and attack the man provoking him. He craned his neck to look up at Sendak, who pursed his lips and took a step backward in observation of him. The moment passed into an eternity. Sendak eventually spoke with a deep and firm voice:_

_‘Very well,’ said Sendak. ‘Welcome to life as a pleasure slave.’_

_Shiro shuddered and nodded his consent._

* * *

There was an excruciating pain.

It raged like a fire within his upper arm; Shiro tried to move the limb, only to encounter a strange numbness and a heavy feeling upon his shoulder, and his eyes struggled to focus upon the surroundings that were so foreign. He caught the stench of iron. It was heavy in the air, along with the strong and penetrating smell of bleach and various disinfectants. Shiro gave a low groan and let his head roll from side to side. There was metal beneath him.

The bench was narrow and cold. He tried to raise his body; it was difficult to balance, impossible even, and he struggled to gain purchase on the side of the bed. Dizzy. The world spun around him, while his body felt weak, and his mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Shiro groaned, as he tried to swing his body to his feet. He could find no purchase on the edge of the bed. The hand that strove to grip found nothing, only that continued lack of sensation and total numbness, until panic set in and he fell. He fell.

Shiro struck the floor with huge force, only to encounter pain greater than anything previously felt in the gladiator rings. It was like a wound reopened. The pain on his arm almost inside somehow, a wide burn that sent waves of warmth over his side, and he grew almost delirious with pain, as he rolled himself onto his back. He struggled to breathe. The lights above flickered in and out of focus, when he heard a voice speak:

“We can replace the arm with a cybernetic piece.”

The left arm – still with strength, still with sensation – rose to his face. There were footsteps around him, as someone squatted beside him, and yet he ignored them to touch upon the strange and stinging line across his nose and cheeks. It felt like a burn. The skin had already begun to blister, while he almost laughed despite his pain as he reached a bitter and dehumanising realisation: he had been branded. A furred hand pulled his fingers away, as a low growl erupted from someone beside him. He simply laughed. Shiro laughed.

“There is no need,” replied a male voice. “He is no longer a gladiator.”

“Two arms lead to better reciprocation, should you desire.”

“I desire nothing more than submission.”

Shiro glanced up to see Sendak. The man stood to reveal his full height, where he gave an almost ‘smile’ that revealed his canine teeth, and Shiro realised that the room – on a full viewing – was in fact an operating room. He swallowed hard and saw how Sendak’s eyes ran down his body, covered only by a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. Shiro made to move, until Sendak gave a short scoff and brought down his foot. It landed hard.

The foot came down around Shiro’s right arm. It was a fearsome sight to see the booted foot, with such force that the arm would break, and Shiro felt his stomach sink and his blood run cold, until the sound of leather upon stone echoed about the room. There was no pain. There was no pressure. Shiro blinked away nervous tears, where he looked down to the boot. It did not stand upon his arm, as there was no arm to stand upon, and the absence of the limb – cut off at the end of a bloody stump – brought a fear unlike any other. He lost his arm.

Shiro let out a blood-curdling scream.

Sendak merely laughed.

* * *

“Fuck you, Sendak.”

Shiro took a step backward. He held onto the sleeve of his body-suit, which hung loose by his right side, and – as he clung to the long stretch of fabric for some support – he struggled to draw in deep and slow breaths. The private rooms of Sendak were large; it would make running away difficult, but not impossible should he get some form of a head start. He had long since memorised the guards’ routes and schedules. It was possible.

He heard his heart race in his ears; there was a great pain in his chest, while the adrenaline that coursed through him made him on high alert, and he pressed himself back against the far wall of the master bedroom. The décor was much like the rest of the ship. Everywhere was black-and-purple, with an almost Spartan approach to furniture. Shiro looked to the ‘bed’ centre of the room; it was more a nest built into the floor, filled with various pillows and blankets, and there was a heavy scent of sweat and soaps from the various fabrics.

Sendak stood between the bed and Shiro. He towered over Shiro, with his yellow eyes narrowed into light slits, as he flexed the fingers of his cybernetic hand. The transition between ‘hospital room’ and ‘bedroom’ had been harsh; Shiro still bore bruises upon his wrists from being dragged by the guards, while he still wondered whether he could both escape and rescue Matt at once. Sendak said in a slow and controlled voice:

“I like my slaves to remain in a . . . _natural_ state.”

“No, you want me to live in these goddamned rooms _naked_ ,” spat Shiro. “It’s not going to happen. You took my arm. You scarred my face. You’re _not_ going to take my damned dignity alongside everything else! I’m not letting you take my clothing.”

There was a low sigh from Sendak. The two of them stood in relative silence, as they looked to each and waited for the silence to be broken. It was Sendak that broke the silence; he took a step forward, with cybernetic hand raised to take a hold of Shiro, and Shiro – eyes wide and skin paled – ran instinctively toward the door. He barely made it a few steps before the cybernetic hand swept around and wrapped long fingers around him.

Shiro was thrown towards the bed, where he landed with a heavy thud. Two hands began to tear at his clothes, ripping the prisoner’s uniform from his body, and – as he fought back, with fists striking hard upon his captor’s body – Sendak gave a loud growl and drew back his fist to aim at Shiro’s face. It landed with a painful blow. Shiro saw the room spin, as a sharp pain shot through his jaw and he tasted blood upon his tongue, and he struggled to fight back as the last shreds of his clothing were finally removed. He was left cold and bare.

“You are mine, Slave,” said Sendak.

“I belong to no one.” Shiro spat at Sendak. “I’m my own man.”

There was a deep exhale of breath from Sendak. The spit upon his cheek rolled down his fur, until a callused hand came up to wipe away the saliva. He looked down with narrowed eyes, as Shiro tried to hide his body from sight; there were scars across his legs and torso from time spent in battle, while his skin was pale and no longer tanned from so long in captivity, and he knew his member – decently sized – would naturally draw attention. Sendak looked down upon his hand, before he chuckled and wiped the saliva onto the fabric.

“I like my ornaments to be prominently displayed.” Sendak smirked and licked at his lips. “I have no qualms about marking you; it will only mark you further as mine, as well as decorate such plain skin with bruises and cuts of colour. You will learn to obey.”

A clawed hand lashed out. The four long claws slashed at Shiro’s now bare chest; he arched his back with a loud cry and felt the sting immediate upon his flesh, and soon warm blood dripped down over his abdomen and the side of his torso. Sendak stood and gathered the stray scraps of fabric, as Shiro lay helpless and upon his back, and he could only watch as the larger man continued to watch him with a lustful gaze and licked at his lips.

“Tomorrow we shall begin your training,” promised Sendak.

Shiro applied pressure to his wound and swore.

“I – I won’t give into you, Sendak.”

* * *

A finger pushed its way into his mouth . . .

The food that covered the digit was bitter and thick, like Greek yoghurt in texture and like medicine in taste, and Shiro tried to pull away with all his strength. Sendak growled. The cybernetic hand grasped the back of his head; the sides were now shaved closed, with the previous hair-dye having been removed to reveal a white lock, and the organic finger was soon joined by a partner, as they invaded his mouth and force-fed him the concoction.

They soon prodded at the back of his tongue; Shiro began to retch, as his mouth contracted around the clawed digits, and he felt himself choke upon the food and struggled to breathe through all his panic. The contents of his stomach – mostly water and barely-cooked meats – struggled to make their way upward, while his lungs burned in desire of air, and soon those fingers were removed and allowed him to gasp for breath. Shiro hyperventilated. There was drool and ‘food’ across his chin and cheeks, while his body was flushed red.

“You will be handfed until you learn not to bite,” commanded Sendak.

There were visible teeth-marks upon Sendak’s forearm. They were clear through mussed and bloody fur, from where Shiro had fought back after his enforced bath, and he remembered well how Sendak had handed him the plate of food with the command to eat. The plate was thrown across the room and his teeth met flesh, when that same flesh sought to pin him to the wall and force him to consume what had fallen to the ground. Shiro could still taste fur and food and blood upon his tongue, as he breathed deep to hold back the vomit.

“You try that again,” whispered Shiro, “I’ll damned well bite you again.”

“Do not make me remove your teeth,” warned Sendak.

* * *

“Will you now obey, Slave?”

Shiro swallowed past his pain. He tried to nod, but it pulled at the muscles of his back. The cane in Sendak’s hand was still wet with blood; Shiro experienced nothing but pain, as his back was covered in cuts of various depths, and the sheets beneath him were covered in various bloody stains and smelled heavy of iron. Shiro knew the cuts would scar. He could feel them open and weeping, even as they fought to clot and close.

“Y-Yes,” muttered Shiro. “Yes.”

There was a low laugh from Sendak, who sat astride his naked form. Sendak has stripped to avoid staining his uniform. The fur brushed against his bare legs, tickling them and providing a strange sensation, and a heavy member dropped against his thigh with warmth that was oddly uncomfortable. It was no pleasure to feel a Galra member. The length was short, almost like a child, but with incredibly girth that would split a man in two and cause intense tearing inside, and it was covered with various barbs in a way that reminded Shiro of a feline.

“Good boy,” praised Sendak.

A heavy thud sounded next to Shiro’s head. He barely found the strength to turn his head, as even the slightest movement send waves of excruciating pain down his shredded back. There was a piece of purple plastic – the same colour of Galra bare skin beneath the fur – just beside him, shaped very much like a Galra member, in the exact same size and style as Sendak. It could have easily have been taken from a cast of the Galra.

There was a fake vein along one side, while the head was flared and shaped almost like a mushroom, with a deep and visible slit at the point. The balls were round and almost flat, which would prevent it from accidentally being pulled internally and providing a medical emergency, and it would be difficult to keep it inside. There would be no underwear to hold it in place, while it was far too short for his walls to clamp it in place, and Shiro feared what he knew would be the inevitable command from that deep and cold voice.

“You will wear this at all times,” ordered Sendak.

“Why? Why do I need to?”

“It will prepare you for when I take what is mine.” Sendak slid further down his legs. “I do not wish to take you to the Druids after every mating; you will gradually learn to get used to this . . . hmm . . . shall we say ‘toy’? You may remove it to make waste. It will stay in at all other times, aside from when _I_ remove it to claim you. Do you understand?”

Shiro shuddered, as furred digits explored his buttocks. He no longer found the strength to cry or protest, as his back continued to bleed and his voice remained hoarse, but he did let out a small whine of fear when the two globes of flesh were parted. The cool air struck his hole. There followed a shiver that caused him to curse, as the ripped flesh of his back – only just beginning to heal and steady itself – moved just enough to disturb the wounds. A finger traced patterns around the hole. He felt himself wink from behind, as Sendak asked:

“Do you understand?”

“I understand,” muttered Shiro.

There was a soft chuckle from Sendak. The Galra man used one hand to keep the buttocks separated, while the other was raised to his lips and sharp teeth bit down upon his claws. Shiro listened to two distinct clicks, like nails being cut or scissors snapping down, and he realised that Sendak had removed two of his claws to make penetration safer for Shiro, something that nearly made him sick to his stomach. Shiro blinked away tears.

“Good,” said Sendak.

Shiro gave a loud cry despite his pain; a digit was pressed to the first knuckle, deep inside him where his warm walls clenched around it, and he felt momentary surprise at his ability to scream despite his agonised throat. He didn’t question where the lubrication was from. He simply felt grateful that there was any lubrication at all. There was a firm erection pressed against the backs of his thighs, as Sendak played with his hole and laughed to himself, and Shiro prayed that Sendak would not ejaculate upon his wounds.

The touched inside him were surprisingly gentle, but it did little to alleviate the pain. Shiro couldn’t do anything except clench, while he knew Sendak often enjoyed seeing him in pain, relishing in sadism that was a terrifying force. A second finger joined the first. It forced its way inside, causing Shiro to instinctively try and pull away. The movement aggravated his wounds and forced him to sob, as he begged for the intrusion to stop.

“You are tight,” observed Sendak. “Are you a virgin?”

Shiro wept in earnest.

* * *

“Ah, as tight as the first time . . .”

Sendak thrust deep inside Shiro. It was mostly uncomfortable, but far from painful. The intercourse usually came last thing at night, as Sendak preferred to ‘unwind’ from his stress after a hard day at work, and his mornings were usually spent too sleepy and grumpy to wish for any kind of companionship. The nightly activities – along with constant usage of the toy inside him – left Shiro perpetually stretched and comfortable to accommodate his captor.

The friction was unbearable; Sendak aimed purposely for his prostate, forcing Shiro into arousal despite his disgust, and he could feel his erection growing against soft sheets in the round nest upon the floor. Shiro lay lifelessly, even as Sendak grunted and clawed at his back. There was a sheen of sweat upon his skin, while the exertions on Sendak’s part made his fur cloy in patches and produce a foul smell like stale sweat, and Shiro knew – in another few days – he would be expected to reciprocate and be more than a living sex-doll.

Shiro listened to the pants from Sendak, who grunted and swore and growled. The way his hands tensed upon human hips, as well as the high-pitched keen and the loss of rhythm, indicated he was close to climax. Shiro let his eyes drift across the room. Thace stood still at full-attention, with his eyes across to an empty spot across the room, with an expression that looked like pity or sorrow. Shiro reached out a hand in instinct, even if it would never reach.

“I could come back later,” suggested Thace.

There was no arousal from Thace. Shiro had noticed a few of the other guards would gain erections, causing him to feel absolute shame and disgust, but – so far – Sendak had taken an absolute stance against sharing his prized possession. It humiliated him; Shiro buried his head into a pillow, refusing to look at the only sympathetic Galra he knew, and soon he felt Sendak push in to the root with a few slaps of testicles upon buttocks, and then followed the inevitable climax. Sendak roared in complete ecstasy.

The come flooded out from the sides of his hole, as ropes after ropes of hot liquid filled his insides and warmed him from within, and he knew – once Sendak pulled out – the toy would be inserted to keep the come inside his body. Sendak pressed his body upon him. The member stayed put, so that Shiro’s inner walls clenched around the wide girth, and Shiro’s erection remained pressed against the sheets without any release.

“Nonsense,” said Sendak. “My slave feels no shame. Do you, Slave?”

There was a slap to his buttock. Shiro replied brokenly:

“No, Master. I am ready to serve.”


End file.
